Grunkle Cipher
by Evanescent Changling
Summary: The twins discover the whole truth- and just who their uncle really is. Two-shot. T for swearing, for one word, but other than that it's pretty safe to be read. Sorry for any typos.
1. Chapter 1

Grunkle Cipher

It was everywhere.

On the windows, in the carpets, even on the Mystery Shack's outer exterior—the society of the Blind Eye was no exception, either. And yet the twins feigned ignorance to it the entire time; at least, the boy did. Looking back at it all from a distance, Dipper had no idea how he and Mabel had missed it.

Maybe they just ignored it because they were scared. Maybe they just didn't want to believe it. Maybe the clues just didn't add up—but they did, and they didn't. Things were just so... confusing.

But if Dipper knew one thing, it was this: Grunkle Stan was hiding more than _just_ information.

He drummed his fingers on the laptop, deep within his own thoughts. He'd decided to visit McGucket the morning after the Northwest Manor's party, after the elder's lunatic demands. Dipper stared at the screen, the words relaying themselves over and over in his mind: _Imminent Threat. 12:46:03._ Somehow, Dipper felt he should feel threatened by this, but he felt instead an unnerving calmness. As if he accepted it. As if he knew that Stan would have something to say on the matter.

McGucket eyed him knowingly, an apt nervousness in line with his perceptive look. Did he expect Dipper to say something? The boy looked up, eyes hollow, returning the gaze. "What can we do?" The little boy whispered hoarsely, his small frame suddenly shrinking into the chair. The Fiddleford watched, in his spare moment of sanity, feeling the raw guilt prick at his spine.

Maybe he shouldn't have dragged a child into this. Dipper may feel like he knew what he was doing when it came to the supernatural, but those were gnomes. Gnomes, ghosts, zombies, vampires, monsters... All of which could be life-threatening, but none as definite as this.

The apocalypse was too much for Dipper to register in his mind. It was at that moment when McGucket used his adult sense and shook his head, helping Dipper out of the chair and out of the laptop's range of sight. "That's enough shim-sham." He decided firmly, looking around his junkyard tent, analyzing his state of living for the past thirty years. If he managed to live like this, then who knows? Maybe he could prepare the twins for the coming danger.

For now, it was best for Dipper to get home—to his family. Those who could provide him with comfort and hope.

On the way out of the tent, McGucket stayed by the boy's side, hand on his shoulder, knowing that there was only so much an old man could do for a despairing child. He'd raised a family, but this was no ordinary boy. This was a boy eager to grow up, without realizing that maturity comes with a cost—such as handling issues like this. It was for that reason that, as he watched the young boy leave the junkyard, leaving a trail of thoughts scattered at his sluggish feet, Fiddleford felt a discomfort—maybe unease—crawling underneath his skin.

He turned back to the tent, swept away by his own dire thoughts that he almost forgot about Dipper's mental state entirely.

Dipper felt his feet dragging along the sidewalk, eyes cast downward, distracted by nothing at all. People looked at him as he strode by, Pacifica's eyes narrowed in concern, or Lazy Susan tilting her head at his brooding state, or even Wendy, pursing her lips together until they paled. Everyone looked at him. Everyone stared and expected him to fix his problem—after all, he fixed everyone else's.

No. He couldn't fix this problem. He was dead on the inside. A light bulb that had burned out of power. No more ideas. No more hope. He felt like a zombie, like one of the zombies he'd read about in his book.

That book.

**_THAT STUPID, STUPID FREAKING BOOK._**

In a sudden rage, Dipper ripped the book out from underneath his jacket and proceeded to rip each and every page out of the bind, slowly and steadily, as if savouring the sound and imaginary suffering he put it through. He repeated this pattern in a gradual manner as he walked towards the forest, towards the Mystery Shack. And when the book was empty of its pages, he violently split the spine in two and threw them, as hard as he could, into the dirt.

The force left an indent in the ground.

The book betrayed him. The book was supposed to lead to solutions, to good outcomes, like a storybook ending. Not the apocalypse. Not the end of the world, the end of life, the end of his family. The book betrayed him. And in return, he betrayed the book. He still raged, staring at it, eyes clouded with hatred, but underneath, there were hot, thick tears running down his face. _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I ha—_

"... Dipper...?"

Gasping lightly, the child looked up with wide, guilty eyes, meeting the bemused expression of his guardian. Grunkle Stan looked at the ground around him, inspecting the book pages, the torn book spines embedded in dirt. He inspected Dipper's face, evident of tears and rage and sadness—to such degree that it was far beyond concerning. He opened his mouth to say something, anything—but watching Dipper flinch made Stan realize that he had built Dipper's expectations to be "manly", and bawling his eyes out was anything but.

Dipper was ashamed.

Stan was dismayed.

They both stared at each other ceaselessly, one teary and wide-eyed, one tired and ashamed that he never clarified what exactly he was trying to build Dipper up to be. He wanted to say that there was no shame in crying, or needing comfort—he was a child, after all. But in the end, Stan merely returned his eyes to the torn pages surrounding the ground around his nephew and sighed, rubbing his eyelids.

"Well... There goes all my hard work. Guess I never was all that cut out to be an author anyway."

Dipper sniffed, unfazed by the news. It was like there was something so much worse on his mind that he no longer cared on finding the author—even when, inadvertently, he just did.

Stan slowly approached the boy and lifted him into his arms. He knew that, inwardly, Dipper was protesting, demanding independence, but under the state he was in, he didn't have the strength to fight it. Stan's back stung in pain but he ignored it, carrying the child back to the Mystery Shack. It was about time he told them the truth, anyway. This would kill Dipper if he didn't find some clarity soon. But, he lamented, it would kill Mabel if she found too _much_ clarity.

Dipper was serious... Mabel wasn't serious _enough_.

How could he explain this without sending one of them to "Sweaterland"...?

He opened the shack door with little to no difficulty, strolling inside and walking right past Soos, who looked on with mild curiosity. Soos knew everything and had tentatively been hinting that the twins should be enlightened. Grunkle Stan had argued that it would endanger them even more, but now, Stan saw that Soos had been right. The twins were fragile—mentally, not physically. It'd been so long since Grunkle Stan had been exposed to children.

He sat Dipper down on the sofa in the experiment room that Soos had found, careful not to create a static charge from the rug as he did. Afterwards, he considered it wise to roll up the carpet and store it away until finding further use for it. McGucket had created it—he was always one for the experiments—but Stan found a disliking for it after they accidentally switched bodies. That situation lasted an entire hour before Fiddleford figured out a way to reverse the effects.

Stan shuddered at the thought of that day, but he couldn't suppress the smile and laugh that escaped his mouth.

Dipper peered over at him, watching Stan shove the carpet away into the closet, and quietly sank into the sofa. He wanted to curl up and sleep, but he felt that, with the impending threat, sleep was not an option. He closed his eyes and as he did, Stan sank into place beside him and wrapped both arms around the child into a brief embrace. "So much for bombshell secrets, huh, kid?"

Dipper didn't respond directly, but he opened his eyes when his great uncle pulled away. "None of this makes sense." His brain started whirring in that familiar way—Stan sighed in relief as he saw that old spark of curiosity in his eyes again. The kid looked at him, eyes squinted, until a smart-ass grin broke his features. "Who'da thunk some con man was so talented with literature?"

Stan swatted him over the head. "Oy, I wasn't the _only_ one writing this thing, ya know. The six-fingered Fiddleford helped too. Cut me some slack." He paused, looking back at the doorframe. "I should get Mabel for this too. She needs to know, even if she isn't all that inclined to find 'the author.'" Dipper felt his eyelids close gently as Stan stood to retrieve his sister, ruffling the kid's hair before he left.

Dipper was left to his own thoughts, and questions began to brew. Stan didn't have six fingers, so why was there a six-fingered hand on the cover? Maybe it was Fiddleford? What exactly went on, all those thirty years ago? What were those bright lights he'd seen protruding from the basement in the middle of the night—when Dipper was up to get a glass of water, or take a bathroom break? What was the big deal with Bill Cipher? Why were Bill's designs everywhere—the carpet, the windows, the shack's exterior? Why did they found the society of the Blind Eye with Bill's design as its logo? And why did Stan seem so surprised that the book continued in invisible ink? He _did_ write the book, didn't he?

"Grunkle Staaaaan, I was giving Brenda a makeover! It was gonna be so much fun! C'mon, what's the big idea?!" Dipper could hear Mabel's whines through the hallway, followed by Stan's grunts of annoyance. Waddles had loyally followed Mabel, from the faint sounds of the pig's squeaks and the little trots on the wooden floors. Dipper's head slowly rose from the couch's arm as a large hand gently shook him awake, eyes opening to reveal a blurry Stan and his twin sister.

Mabel smirked. "After that Sock Opera incident, you _still_ haven't learned your lesson on sleep, have you?" _Ignorance is bliss_, Dipper thought as he looked into her eyes. _But bliss is boring._

"The lack of sleep saved me from Bill." Dipper argued. Mabel rolled her eyes.

"So, that's your tactic, never get a full rest again and you'll always have a way to get out of possession?"

Stan shifted uncomfortably, drifting from side to side from where he was standing. "Mabel, honey, you should probably sit down." He said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. Mabel looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Am I in trouble? Is this because I let Waddles track mud into the Shack? I'm really sorry!" She said quickly, her small body shrinking in shame. Dipper saw that Mabel was looking strangely afraid. Maybe it was the seriousness in Stan's expression, or the guilt she felt, but he'd seen nothing like it.

Stan blinked, momentarily irritated. "_You let that filth—_you know what, I don't care. There are more important things to talk about." He gestured towards the sofa, and Mabel crawled to it like a wounded puppy, curling into her brother for protection. Dipper looked at her oddly, but chose not to remark on this insecure behaviour, instead looking to his uncle expectantly.

To his surprise, Stan had turned his back to them, hands folded behind his spine. Like he were contemplating how to break it to them.

There was a stretch of silence, and Dipper almost expected Grunkle Stan to back out of this. But Stan harboured a desire to get this secret off of his chest, and who better to know than his family?

"There was once... a spirit." Stan spoke quietly, awkwardly, like he didn't know how to proceed. "A lonely one. He wandered around the world. He never found anyone like him." Dipper blinked. This was sounding familiar... "He was drawn to Gravity Falls because it was the only place he hadn't yet visited, but... he stayed, because he felt like this was his home. He met humans. One of which was recording strange happenings in the town. A six-fingered hillbilly... named McGucket.

"The spirit was curious. The people of the town weren't scared of him, just indifferent. When he met McGucket, the man simply laughed at the spirit's mischievous sense of humour. McGucket recorded the spirit as well, and showed him his findings. The spirit was awed. He saw strange symbols and patterns in the papers, and relayed them to the human as a language that he would understand. McGucket was astonished, and asked this creature for a name. The spirit told him he had no such thing. So Fiddleford decided he would give him one, as a gift for being so helpful in his research." Dipper caught a smile on Stan's face.

"He wanted to give the spirit a name that would reflect his personality, which had been conveyed to him throughout their time together. First name, Bill, meant 'resolute protector.' Bill protected McGucket's secrets and his research project, and told no one of what he saw. He was a trusted friend. Last name, given upon their first encounter, was Cipher—because he had deciphered the symbols that of which he'd seen."

Dipper stiffened. _Bill Cipher's origins._ Mabel's eyes were widened, clearly understanding. "Where did it go wrong?" She asked quietly. Stan looked at the child for a brief second, and she caught a glimpse of both fear and remorse.

"I—Bill wanted to help. That's where it went wrong." He took a seat in the armchair across the room, lolling his neck back. "He... made himself a form. It took a ritual and some materials, but he did. He made a body, a... vessel to permanently possess. It was... out of practice, given Bill's true age, so it reflected him."

Mabel was shrinking harder into her brother, holding her breath. She knew something he didn't. "I wanna go to Sweaterland," she whimpered. Dipper stared, oblivious.

"What does this have to do with _you_, though?" Dipper argued. Stan gave a small, sad smile.

"I thought you were smarter than that, Pine Tree..."


	2. END

END

"I thought you were smarter than that, Pine Tree..."

Dipper flinched violently at the name, this time leaning into Mabel. The twins were now huddled against one another, unable to do more than stare, because this just didn't make any sense. They'd heard Grunkle Stan's back story—he'd come from far away and fled every state because he was arrested in every single one, then settled here, in Gravity Falls. He told them it was the only place he hadn't been caught. But they'd seen Grunkle Stan and Bill Cipher coexist at the same time—how was it possible? Bill had invaded Grunkle Stan's mind, for Pete's sake.

Dipper nudged Mabel. "You _knew_. And you didn't tell me?" Mabel shrugged, eyes flickering to their uncle and then to her brother.

"I had a hunch, but it was crazy." She whispered. Waddles squealed, clearly oblivious, and approached Stan's pant leg, sniffing like the curious animal he was. Stan—Bill?—blinked at the pig and reached down to stroke its back, stopped by Mabel's whine. "Don't pull out his teeth!" Dipper looked to her in confusion, but she didn't clarify, instead looking at her uncle pleadingly.

He scoffed. "I only did that to freak Gideon out. The brat's been in my hair for longer than I'd like." He gently ran his hand down the small pig's neck and it squealed in delight, running to the center of the room and doing circles.

"So... Carla? And the arrests? And... the childhood? Everything's fake?" Dipper was struggling to understand. Stan/Bill shook his head.

"You're missing the point, kid. _I'm_ fake, but not everything I've experienced is. Carla is my late wife—she wasn't actually "stolen" by a hippie. I just said that for something to relate to your problem. The arrests—you're right, those actually didn't happen. But I wandered the world, remember? When I came here, I stayed because I found people who accepted me. The childhood..." He trailed off, quiet for a moment. "The childhood was something I witnessed. Not my own, but someone for whom I cared for, and I just didn't want you to end up the same way, Pine Tree. So I wanted to make you fight back, for when... the apocalypse came."

The words flashed across Dipper's mind again, and Bill knew it. _Imminent Threat.12:46:03. _Who knew how much closer it was by now?

Dipper's eyebrows creased. "But we've seen your real form and Stan's form exist at the same time. Explain that."

Stanford smirked. "There's my boy. It's like playing with puppets. When Gideon told me to invade "Stan's" mind, I only agreed because it was my own. I can create duplicates of personality, and made one to inhabit the human form while I was in the real one. So I entered my mind and put you two through challenges that would make you stronger and bring you closer together. It worked, didn't it?"

Dipper looked at his sister, hugging his arm. He conceded that Bill was right. "But what for?" Dipper asked. Then he flinched at a memory, and whispered, "And why would you possess me?"

This time there was discomfort in his uncle's expression, and he fidgeted in his seat. "Sometimes..." he said, "trials involve things we don't want to do. I had to keep this secret for as long as I could, so being the antagonist would encourage you to fight back. To fight back would ready you to for... the '_Imminent Threat._'"

Dipper said nothing.

"I know that what I've done is unforgiveable, but you have to understand—"

"_We don't have to understand anything! You're our uncle, we trusted you, and you betrayed us. Like the book. You betrayed us._" Dipper raved, breath uneven. When his mind was steady, his voice was clear, he murmured, "You were right. In Gravity Falls, there really _is_ no one we can trust."

He jumped up and ran into the attic, followed by Mabel.

* * *

"Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye. Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye. Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye. Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye. Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye." Mabel repeated to herself quietly, leaned against the wall on her bed, her head tucked underneath her sweater. Her small legs were bundled closely to her body and she fell over, head smacking the pillow.

Dipper hadn't gone that way in the manner of mental break downs. But he was still thinking. Not only did he have the end of the world to worry about, but Bill-freaking-Cipher was his Grunkle, who possessed him and repeatedly terrified the twins. No wonder why he said, ever so frequently, "I'll be watching you." It was because he was with them, all the time, under the same roof without them realizing it. The stained glass windows, carpets, all of them had designs of Bill in one way or another.

How could they not have seen this?

"What did he mean, when he said he's got big plans coming? What is he up to? And when he said that everything we care about will change..."

Mabel was still muttering in Sweaterland. "Remember. Reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold. Bye."

"Buy gold...? He said that when he was 'preparing for the apocalypse', storing away some gross meat cans..." Dipper murmured. He shook his head, trying to focus.

The society of the Blind Eye... was it possible that they didn't want anyone to know that Bill Cipher exists in a man's body, so they erased the memories of those who knew? It was a possibility. And what about when the author, or co-author, Fiddleford, had declared that Bill Cipher should not be summoned at all costs? Nothing made any sense.

Part of Dipper wanted to find out everything, but he was terrified that he lived under the same roof as Bill. Part of him found it fitting that such a trickster demon had become a money-obsessed con man. Part of him wondered if Dipper too possessed genetic properties of the demon. Part of him wanted to _not_ be scared, to ask questions and find answers. After all, Grunkle Stan, or Grunkle Bill—he was still their Grunkle. He still loved them and cared for them, and Dipper recalled the moments when the family was closest. The fishing trip, finally beating Gideon, when the karaoke was interrupted by zombies and Grunkle Stan-Bill finally told them the truth...

Dipper tried his hardest, he really did, he tried so hard not to cry. His lips burned with a wide smile, and his breath was beginning to hitch and become uneven, muffling a sob. Not even the blanket—which arched over his head—could hide the struggle of tears trying to shed. He sniffed, wiping his nose. _Stop crying. Stop it. Please._ The more he resisted, the harder they fell.

Until something gently touched his back.

He caught his breath mid-sob, slowly relaxing when someone began to rub his back soothingly. _Mabel_. He thought, tears still running down his cheeks. Her hand was small—that was how he identified it. At least, he thought he did, until he caught her muttering continuing on the _other side of the room_.

Curious, Dipper lifted the blanket cautiously to see who had come into their room—only to meet a bright light, revealing to be a tiny yellow triangle.

"Yello'." He said.

Dipper snarled and snapped his blanket back down. He heard his Grunkle sigh, but he didn't care.

"What do you want me to do, Pine Tree...? I can't change the past..."

"MY NAME IS NOT PINE TREE!" Dipper snarled viciously, more tears gushing out of his sore eyes. "IT MAY BE ON THE CIPHER WHEEL, BUT IT'S NOT THE NAME I WAS GIVEN!" The presence he felt behind him, formerly rubbing his spine, had become larger. How did he know? He didn't, he just felt it grow. Back into the shape of their kin. Stan sat on his bed, quiet, not knowing what he should say.

So he continued his story. "I helped McGucket write up his research as three journals, but, having been written by a demon gave them particular power. We had to separate them because when they were together, they created a form of chaos. I let him claim authorship of them—he would be most identified because of his six fingers. Besides, no one knew who I was.

"Then there was an accident. I tried to warn Fiddleford that trying to contain their power would be impossible by humans, that the outcome would be dangerous. I didn't want him to get hurt. But when the portal was developed, it created a blast of energy, and things went flying—like glass and metal—and Fiddleford lost the skin on his right palm, down halfway across his arm. His fingers were still intact—well, most of them. He lost his sixth finger.

He blamed the incident on me. He thought I had turned the portal against him because he wouldn't listen to me. The portal had encouraged all the things of supernatural to make an appearance all over town—and we had to make the residents forget. So... we founded the society of the Blind Eye." Dipper felt him wince.

"I didn't understand why they had used _me_, crossed out with a red X, as their logo. At least, not until McGucket had me excluded from the books and from the research entirely, explaining that he felt my presence was more sinister than he would like to remember, and he... developed this gun to make him forget. In return, he scribbled in the books that I _should not_ be trusted. I left the research behind and, to make sure I wouldn't forget the mistake I had made, I got this tattoo... the one you've been oh-so desperate to see."

While Dipper was curious, he still wanted to know some things. _Buy gold? What does that mean? Why didn't he tell us sooner, or at all?_

"You seem to forget I can tell what you're thinking. Gold is an essential part to surviving this apocalypse, and... Like with the mysteries surrounding Gravity Falls, I couldn't tell you, because I wanted to shield you from the truth. So I lied. I pretended to be this con artist, so nothing would be suspicious. But I guess it didn't work." Stan sighed, and leaned his chin into his hands. "So much that I've done... I did give you clues. Those codes, one of them translating to 'Stan is not as he seems.' That's one of them."

Dipper slowly peeled off the blanket, looking at his uncle with wide, teary eyes. "The lights...?" Dipper asked softly. Stan almost didn't hear him. "The lights from the basement?" the boy clarified.

Stan was caught now. "The portal." He explained, having no other excuse. "When I found all three books again, I reactivated the portal. But it isn't responding well to me... I guess it's been a while since I've been acknowledged as a demon."

Dipper continued to stare. Stan knew what he was mentally asking, and he refused an answer. "I can't tell you what I'm using it for. Just know that I've done everything for you two out of your best interests, and to keep you safe. Huh, Mabel?" Grunkle Stan looked to the girl tucked away by her shooting star sweater, but she denied a sane response.

"Mabel's not here. She's in Sweaterland right now." She mumbled. Stan laughed, much to Dipper's surprise.

"Sweaterland, my ass. I know _just_ what will make you snap out of it." Without warning, he grabbed the boy in a headlock and nugied him, dragging him over to his sister's bed with Dipper squeaking and muffling his laughter. Mabel curiously looked up just in time to see her Grunkle scooping her up into a bear hug, with her squealing in shock and, she'll admit, delight. She felt like a five year old again, being chased around by an uncle pretending to be a monster.

Though this time, there was hardly denying that.


End file.
